


Does it Come as a Surprise? (Language of Averted Eyes)

by yukiawison



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Coming Out, Everybody works through some shit idk what to tell you, F/M, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Yuki is my comfort character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: Part of Yuki was convinced that Kakeru was making fun of him. He never knew when jokes went too far. He never knew when to stop pushing Yuki’s buttons. And he knew he was good at teasing him. Part of him hated Kakeru for that, for being so easy with his touches, for hitting him where it hurt.“What are you doing?” Yuki said. Kakeru reached up and brushed the hair out of Yuki’s eyes, tucking the strands behind his ear with warm fingers.“Nothing,” he said. Yuki watched his eyes. They were big and watery and still unfocused from the weed.
Relationships: Honda Tohru & Sohma Yuki, Kuragi Machi/Sohma Yuki, Manabe Kakeru/Nakao Komaki, Manabe Kakeru/Sohma Yuki, Sohma Yuki & Manabe Kakeru & Kuragi Machi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Does it Come as a Surprise? (Language of Averted Eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> I read Fruits Basket in middle school and now I’m watching the reboot as a 23 year old. So...this is a culmination of many thoughts about growing up and returning to things that you care about in a new way. 
> 
> It’s also very self-indulgent. (Title from Pleaser by Wallows)

“Hey, you’ve gotta eat something, man.” Kakeru was leaning on the edge of the bookcase. He tilted his head to one side the way he always did when he was trying to get his way. He had yet to unzip his heavy blue coat. There was snow melting in his hair and dripping down the side of his face. He was flushed from the cold and he almost looked like he’d jogged here by the degree of his breathlessness. He was carrying a paper cup of tea, which he set down on the shelf beside Yuki, and a paper bag of pork buns. Yuki watched the long line of his neck and sighed. 

Yuki was shelving a new shipment of books. He’d been hunched, knees bent to the ground, for an hour and a half now. He smoothed the hair out of his eyes and accepted the pork buns. 

“I had breakfast,” Yuki said. 

“Coffee and ibuprofen aren’t breakfast,” Kakeru said, as Yuki bit into the first bun. He’d intended to skip his lunch break, but now that food was in front of him, he noticed his stomach rumbling. 

“I was going to eat after my shift,” he said. 

“You’ve got class after,” Kakeru countered. He selected a book from the top shelf and flipped through it. “You think you’re slick, Princess?”

Yuki took another bite as to avoid responding. He’d been working at the campus bookstore long enough for Kakeru to know his schedule. He’d gotten the job as part of a larger plan to distance himself from the control of the Sohma family. Even without the curse, Yuki sometimes still felt bound. He got an itchy feeling under his skin any time his mother sent him money in a birthday card, or Ayame ended phone calls with unsolicited gossip about the main house. There was still plenty of gossip, though the inner and outer circles had collapsed a bit, and people were leaving. Shigure sent him postcards occasionally; he was traveling with Akito, which also meant that the main house was without its family head, if it even made sense to call her that anymore. Facades that Yuki had spent his entire life cowering before were suddenly crumbling, and sometimes the reality of that made him freeze up. His hands sometimes stopped working. 

In any case, making his own money had seemed like a good enough place to start.

“A girl from high school stopped me on the street yesterday and asked me about you,” Kakeru said. “Hinata-san, she used to be in your little club,” he said. 

“I didn’t realize people knew we were friends,” Yuki said, mouth quirking up on one side. 

“You wound me, Yun Yun,” Kakeru said, swatting the air with the book he was holding. “And after I bring you good wishes from one of your devotees.”

Yuki grit his teeth uncomfortably. He recalled the club with some guilt. He’d never meant to lead anyone on, or inspire a borderline fanatical devotion. 

“What did you even tell her?” he said. 

Kakeru grinned. Now he unzipped his coat, perhaps for emphasis as he undid the knot of his scarf and stalled. “That you’re as princely as ever,” he said. 

They disbanded when he left, obviously; it was weird enough have a fan club for a student, but it would be weirder if the club continued once said student graduated. Machi said there was talk about it, about Yuki, after he was gone. Curse or no curse, the Sohmas had some sort of cosmic pull on people. 

These days, it was harder to tell why so many of his classmates were infatuated with him. Yuki knew he was considered attractive with his long eyelashes and feminine features and hair and eyes that were unusual to the point of being striking. And he’d catered to the attention in high school. He’d dressed up when people told him to and even when he was picking his own clothes he fell back on elegant silhouettes and neat, simplistic patterns. Most days when he got dressed he felt like he was someone’s oversized doll, perfectly arranged to be looked at, adored. 

He dressed differently now, in oversized layers and mismatched socks. His clothes were more often wrinkled and more chaotic in their patterns. He wore gaudy, unflattering sweaters over t-shirts and pants with stains and secondhand belts. He looked different, altogether, from high school. Too many hours of reading in the dark had forced him to buy glasses. And since he was almost always reading, he wore them all the time. Their lenses were perpetually smudged and they highlighted the dark circles beneath his eyes. His hair was messier. Kakeru had offered to take care of his split ends in his bathroom once and so it was uneven too. He wasn’t as thin as he was in high school (so even if he pivoted back to his old, sophisticatedly collared shirts there was no guarantee they’d even fit him anymore.) He wore beat-up tennis shoes and boots with fraying laces and bought a plaid bathrobe that he wore around the house when he was cold. 

He looked worse, maybe, certainly nothing like a prince anymore, but he felt better. He felt more like himself and less like an invention, an approximation of a person. The reality was that the real Yuki Sohma was a bit of a mess, he’d always been, and now his outside appearance was starting to reflect that. 

“So you lied,” Yuki said. 

Kakeru’s expression softened and Yuki squirmed. He knew what he looked like. He had a plaid button up on under a shapeless gray sweater. It was warm. His corduroys were held up with a plastic zip tie (he’d lost his only belt under a pile of dirty laundry) and he’d tried to scrub the mustard stain out of the left pant leg with a Tide detergent stick, but it had only served to make the blotch more noticeable. 

“I didn’t lie,” Kakeru said. He replaced the book on the shelf. Yuki ignored the heat that was creeping up his neck and over the tips of his ears. Kakeru was making fun of him again. 

“What are you doing over here anyway? Don’t you have class on the other side of campus?” Yuki said. He was worried they were blocking the aisle too much and that his boss would get mad, but she liked him, and Kakeru had brought her a cup of tea too, so maybe the worry was unfounded. 

Kakeru coughed. “I, uh...used to meet Komaki at the café next door. I made it all the way over here before I remembered,” he said. 

“Oh,” Yuki said. Kakeru and Komaki were on a break. He’d put it like that, to Yuki, stressing the fact that it was a temporary situation. Yuki wasn’t sure anyone really had the foresight to make statements like that, but Kakeru had been with Nakao-san since middle school, so he probably knew something about relationships that Yuki didn’t. 

Kakeru shrugged. “I figured you hadn’t eaten, because you never eat anything unless someone reminds you. Lucky for you I figured right,” he said. He grinned, but it looked forced. Yuki never knew exactly where Kakeru stood on the break; he felt like he was leaving details out. 

“Well thanks, then,” Yuki said. Kakeru’s false grin shifted into something more sincere. 

“I should go. See you this weekend? Machi’s picking the movie,” Kakeru said. 

“Yeah, um, see you,” Yuki said. 

***

Yuki and Machi had broken up six months ago. It was mutual and amicable, but things had felt weird for a long while after. 

“It’s not that I don’t love you,” she’d said. He was surprised at how directly she’d said it. “But I think we both know that we should be friends...instead of what we are now.” She was standing in the doorway of his kitchenette, wearing a focused expression that made his chest hurt. 

“I love you, too,” he said. He knew she was right, had known, maybe, for a long time. The more he thought about it the more stupid he felt. He’d fallen for this twice now, the warmth that gathered in his fingertips, the lightheaded joy of being cared for. He didn’t have romantic feelings for Tohru, and with Machi, though it had been closer, he felt primarily a strong, platonic affection. “I—“ he hesitated, choking on his words before he could even get them out.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. 

“I don’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend,” he said. 

“You’re never going to lose me,” she said. He remembered the way she’d wrapped her arms around him, gently, like she knew how much it meant to be held like that. 

He remembered shaking. He didn’t want to cry and make her feel bad, but he couldn’t help it. Tears came more easily, now. 

There was an awkward stretch of months where they didn’t talk much. Kakeru brought a case of beer over despite Yuki’s protests that it wasn’t much of a breakup.

And then they came back together, slowly, but better than before. She came over to watch movies at Yuki’s apartment with Kakeru. Kakeru sat between them at first and then she reclaimed her seat beside Yuki, leaning her head on his shoulder, pressed close to his side. 

And then it was easy again. They got coffee on the weekends. He called her after class. She stayed over occasionally, once on a weekend before she had exams. There was some construction by her apartment building and it was too loud to study. He made up his bed for her and slept on the pull out couch.

He woke up before her. It was a rare occurrence for him to be sentient enough to move before 8 a.m., but that Saturday it happened. He was cold, so he put on a hoodie. It was too big for him, the hem falling to his mid-thigh. He had on a pair of athletic shorts, pilfered from Kakeru at some point. They had paint stains from some ill-fated student council meeting (painting signs for the activity fair.) 

He put the coffee pot on. Yuki needed a preliminary cup of coffee before they went out to get more. Without caffeine he moved like a zombie. His hair was greasy but he wasn’t in the mood to shower. He yawned and took off his glasses to rub the lenses on his sleeve. 

It was raining. He cradled his coffee mug and stared out at the dark clouds. He rubbed a hand over his face and replaced his glasses on his nose. He figured he should suck it up and shower anyway. He was getting pimples on his forehead. 

“Hey.” Machi was leaning in the doorframe. 

“Hi,” he said. He flushed, suddenly embarrassed at his generally grubby appearance. “Do you want to go to the café? I can change.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “You don’t have to change,” she said. 

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not going out like this. I’m bad, but I’m not that bad.”

Machi looked at him pointedly. He’d spent a lot of time decoding her looks. Back in high school, when getting words out of her was a challenge, he drank up every detail he could get. When they were dating, he’d gotten nervous half the time she looked at him. Not butterflies nervous. He got nauseous nervous, like he was moments away from messing everything up. Now, he assessed her more objectively: the slant of her eyebrow, the frizzy mess of her hair, the intensity of her gray eyes. 

“What?” he said, crossing his arms self-consciously. 

She shook her head. “You look good. You always look good,” she said. 

He looked down into his coffee cup, trying to think of something to say. “Thanks,” he said. 

She huffed out a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. I did break up with you,” she said. 

He rolled his eyes. “I guess you owe me a latte then, for all the heartbreak,” he said. 

***

Machi chose the new Mogeta special for movie night. Yuki thought Kakeru was going to complain, but he was packing a bowl the second he got there, so it wasn’t an issue. They usually smoked on movie nights, well, Kakeru usually smoked. Sometimes they’d pass the bowl around while the movie loaded on Yuki’s laptop, coughing intermittently until Yuki started to feel lightheaded and outside of himself. 

When Machi smoked the sharp lines of her posture relaxed and she was more willing to argue with her brother when he said something stupid (as opposed to elbowing him in the side, or blushing an angry red.) When Kakeru smoked he told incomprehensible jokes and his body went from relaxed to entirely limp. That night, Machi had been too invested in the movie to get high, and Yuki, peer pressured by the funny, sideways look Kakeru was giving him, agreed to take a few hits. 

“Isn’t this basically the same plot as the last Mogeta movie? They really gave Art a new villain with a different colored cape and a slightly bigger mustache and thought we wouldn’t notice. Yuki, back me up,” Kakeru said, drawing out Yuki’s name. Kakeru was leaning on him already and the movie had barely started.

“These movies are generally marketed at children,” Yuki said, carefully. Machi glared at him, but turned her attention back to the screen. Kakeru passed him the bowl. 

“Do you need me to light it for you?” Kakeru said, teasingly. Yuki rolled his eyes. He had clumsy fingers when he was already a bit high. Kakeru had lit it for him too many times to count and he still acted like it was the funniest situation they’d ever been in every time he offered. 

“Don’t want the prince to burn his fingers,” Kakeru said. Yuki watched him, his long eyelashes, eyes dazed and half lidded, smile wide and taunting.

“Fine,” Yuki said, handing over the lighter with a shaky hand. Kakeru leaned in close. He smelled like cheap cologne and static electricity. Yuki let heat fill up his lungs. Machi had turned up the TV’s volume. 

Kakeru, to his credit, made an effort to concentrate on the movie. Yuki couldn’t really focus on the screen and just stared, absently in its general direction. The movie wasn’t usually the point of these nights anyway. Sometimes they muted the movie and talked, or Machi did her homework at the coffee table. 

“Did you buy this or rent it?” Kakeru asked. 

“I bought it,” Machi said. 

“And what’s this girl’s name again?”

“That’s Ami,” Machi said. 

“So is this canonically before the eighth season or after the—?”

“If you keep talking, I am going to throw you out,” Machi said. 

“You can’t do that. It’s Yun Yun’s apartment and you forfeited your girlfriend privilege,” Kakeru shot back. Yuki paused the movie. 

“What does that mean?” Yuki said. 

Kakeru sighed exaggeratedly. “It means all my friends are weirdos,” he said. 

Yuki pulled his knees to his chest. “How am I a weirdo?” he said. He was high enough to take the comment personally. 

“Well, first of all, you want to teach high school,” Kakeru said. 

“So?” Yuki said. He’d arrived at his education major tenuously, but his time tutoring Tohru and running school business in the student council had helped him decide on the teaching profession. His parents weren’t exactly happy about his decision, but he’d given up on expecting them to be happy about anything he did a long time ago. 

“Only weirdos return to high school voluntarily,” Kakeru said. He smiled, and since there wasn’t any venom in his words, Yuki attempted a smile back. 

“And you have the self-preservation of a toddler,” Kakeru said. 

“That’s not true!”

“You put tin foil in the microwave,” Kakeru said. 

“Once,” Yuki said. “That doesn’t make me weird, it just makes me, uh...”

“Uninformed,” Machi supplied. 

“I was going to say stupid,” Kakeru said. “And I don’t want to hear anything from you. You only watch kids’ anime and consistently get mats in your hair that I have to cut out with kitchen scissors. You both live like rats; I think I’m well within my rights to call you weird.”

Machi, unfazed, put a hand on Yuki’s shoulder and sighed. “You know, he seems to be implying that we’re his only friends,” she said. “And we’re related so I’m not sure I even count.”

Yuki nodded and hummed. “That’s an excellent point,” he said. 

Kakeru flushed, like the bit was getting to him. “I-I have friends other than you. Kimi and, uh, Komaki and...” He struggled a bit and Yuki wondered if he’d run out of friends or if he was too high to remember their names. “I don’t know if Komaki counts either since she dumped me,” he sounded bitter, staring down at the floor, all joking aside. Yuki looked over at Machi, who looked back at him, wide-eyed. 

“I was kidding,” she said, dumbly. “I didn’t mean to—“

“I know,” Kakeru interjected. “I’m sorry. I’ll shut up and we can finish the movie.” His fake smile was back. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

Yuki had a weird feeling in his chest, like all his organs were contracting. They finished the movie and then put on their coats to walk Machi to the train.

The walk back with Kakeru felt long. He was sleeping over at Yuki’s apartment. (They’d decided before the awkwardness.)

“When you get all quiet like that I worry you’re gonna stop talking altogether,” Kakeru said at last. 

Yuki laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kakeru said. He stopped ahead of him. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets and was hunched slightly in the streetlight. His hair was messy and dotted with flakes of snow. 

“Nothing,” Yuki said. 

“No, tell me,” Kakeru said. There was something intense about him. Yuki was relenting before he even realized. 

“There was a time when I stopped talking,” he said. “I was 11, I think.”

“How long?” Kakeru said. He was standing stone still. Yuki didn’t think he’d ever seen him like that, standing without fidgeting or tapping his foot or waving his hands all over the place to illustrate his point. 

“Um,” Yuki felt his face warming up. “I don’t know, a couple of months?” It could have been longer. Time tended to blur together back then. 

“Months?” Kakeru’s voice broke. “That’s a long time.” 

Yuki shrugged. “At the time, I—“ he couldn’t finish. Every excuse started with the curse and ended with Akito shutting him up in a dark room. 

“Why?” 

“We’re going to freeze out here, come on,” Yuki said. He started briskly forward. Kakeru caught him by the wrist. 

“I thought we were going to talk about you, and whatever that was earlier,” Yuki said. 

“Why’d you stop talking, Sohma?”

Yuki was shivering. He’d forgotten his scarf. He’d never been good in the cold. 

“I hated myself,” he said. “I didn’t think I deserved to talk.”

“Jesus Christ.” Kakeru put a hand on Yuki’s shoulder, like he was leaning on him for support. His head was down. 

“Don’t make fun of me,” Yuki said, tightly. 

“I’m not.” Kakeru said, and now he really was leaning on him and quivering slightly. 

“Kakeru—“

“You don’t still think that shit, right? It’s all buried in your mysterious, sordid past?” He looked up at him, and Yuki thought his eyes were watering. Kakeru took off his scarf and wrapped it around Yuki’s neck. Yuki was about to shake it off, embarrassed, but he was cold and the scarf was warm with Kakeru’s lingering body heat.

“It was a long time ago,” he said. When Yuki got quiet now he was usually gathering his thoughts, or knocked breathless, like now, by the open look on Kakeru’s face. 

They started walking again. Yuki kept the scarf, though they were only five minutes from his apartment. Kakeru wouldn’t look at him. Yuki thought about how rough it must have been to be dumped. Kakeru had been dating Nakao-san since middle school. She was the one who encouraged him to keep going to school. Kakeru hadn’t even declared a major. Whenever Yuki asked him what he wanted to do he made some joke about a boring office job with good benefits. And he’d had trouble making friends. He could be stubborn and insular and bad at making first impressions. More so, it seemed like he just didn’t care. 

Yuki was trying to think of something to say, if not to get whatever was bothering Kakeru out of him, then just to restore their usual easy conversation. He tried to imagine what Tohru would say in a situation like this. She always knew the right thing to say. He missed her. 

“I guess I thought that my life was going to be one way forever,” Kakeru said, breaking the silence for him. 

“What do you mean?” Yuki asked. He was still freezing, but this seemed the type of conversation to have standing outside. 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought Komaki and I would get married and I’d work for her dad or get some other job I didn’t really care about and we’d have a couple of kids and live in a little house and have hot pot on Wednesdays. And I’d see you on the weekend and we’d talk about all the good times or whatever.”

“The good times,” Yuki repeated. 

“And when she ended it she said she thought we were outgrowing each other, like that she still loved me but that maybe we weren’t right for each other right now. And I—“ He hesitated. “You know me. I don’t always understand other people and their feelings. It’s hard for me. I just...I don’t know what that means, to have a person you think is perfect for you and just grow out of that relationship. I thought we had everything planned out. I thought we were on the same page and then out of nowhere she...well I guess that’s the point isn’t it? We were together most of my life. She seems to think it’ll be better for both of us if we try just being friends,” he said. 

“Well, do you think she’s right?” Yuki asked. He was still shaken by the fact that Kakeru thought to include him in this fixed, hypothetical future. 

Kakeru sighed and looked up at the sky. Yuki could see his breath, icy puffs in the darkness. “Yeah,” he said, after a beat. “I could feel us drifting apart, even though I didn’t want to. Or at least I didn’t think that’s what I wanted. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“No,” Yuki said. “No, it does.” He thought about what Kakeru had said about thinking his life would be one way forever. Yuki had felt like that since birth. He’d never told Kakeru about the curse outright, but he’d given enough details of his childhood that Kakeru knew things were bad. 

“And I guess I should’ve had this realization sooner. Lots of things I thought would never change have. I’m here,” he said, gesturing around him. “I didn’t think that would happen. And you talk to people now and wear all those damn ugly sweaters.”

“What do my sweaters have to do with anything?” Yuki said, sharp and embarrassed. 

“You’re changing,” Kakeru said. “That’s all I mean.” He stopped and reached out, pinching the edges of Yuki’s coat, pulling him closer, infinitesimally. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” Yuki said. His voice had gotten so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“And I didn’t think you and Machi would break up. Any word on you two getting back together?”

Yuki shook his head. “We weren’t...I wasn’t...wait a minute, this isn’t about me and Machi,” he said. 

Snow was catching in Kakeru’s eyelashes. He smiled. 

“Back in high school you had this big, secret chip on your shoulder. You wouldn’t even let people touch you, and now—”

“Now, what? Why do you keep making everything about me?” Yuki said. 

“Because I _like_ you,” Kakeru said. He was pulling him closer now, so their hips brushed together. 

Part of Yuki was convinced that Kakeru was making fun of him. He never knew when jokes went too far. He never knew when to stop pushing Yuki’s buttons. And he knew he was good at teasing him. Part of him hated Kakeru for that, for being so easy with his touches, for hitting him where it hurt. 

“What are you doing?” Yuki said. Kakeru reached up and brushed the hair out of Yuki’s eyes, tucking the strands behind his ear with warm fingers.

“Nothing,” he said. Yuki watched his eyes. They were big and watery and still unfocused from the weed. 

“Maybe Nakao-san just said all that stuff to make you feel better,” Yuki said. It was harsh. He’d meant it to be. Anger was boiling over inside him, mixed with a dizzying surge of shame. 

Kakeru’s face fell fractionally. “Maybe,” he said. “It’s fucking cold out. Let’s go in.”

***

“Are you sure this is a beginners recipe, Tohru-kun?” Yuki said. He was afraid of burning the curry or overcooking the rice, or, most likely, both. He held the phone in one hand and measured out the rice with the other. 

“Of course!” Tohru said. “Kyo-kun makes this curry all the time.”

Yuki winced. “I think you’re overestimating my cooking ability. Don’t tell him I told you that, though.”

Tohru laughed. “Just take it a step at a time. I’ll walk you through the whole thing.”

Yuki wasn’t particularly skilled at feeding himself. The first time Tohru visited she discovered his nearly empty pantry and had gotten him to admit that he was buying all his meals from the convenience store. From then on she seemed to be on a mission to keep him alive. He distinctly remembered her gifting him a bottle of multivitamins and saying something along the lines of _you take care of your plants; you’ve got to take care of yourself too._ She brought him dinner some weekends and they ate together and caught up. More recently, though, she’d been directing him through simple recipes he could hopefully make without burning the building down. 

“Thank you, again,” he said. He put the phone on speaker so he could cut up an onion. “Kakeru has been bringing me lunch at work, but I’m still at a loss when it comes to dinner.”

“How is Manabe-san?” Tohru asked. 

“He’s good.”

In the weeks since their awkward conversation in the snow, Kakeru had been around even more than usual. He made sandwiches or brought leftover stir fry for lunch when he didn’t pick up sushi or buns from the 7-11. It had become almost a regular thing on Yuki’s shifts, so much so that Yuki’s boss clocked him out every time Kakeru came in. And when their classes ended around the same time Kakeru would walk him home or they’d stop for tea at Yuki’s favorite place and sit, side by side at the counter by the window. Their knees would brush and they’d stare out at the snowy streets and Kakeru would burn his tongue and make a big deal out of it because he knew Yuki thought it was funny. 

There were small changes between them. Kakeru stopped rushing ahead of him whenever they walked together and instead matched his paces to Yuki’s. When Yuki went to the campus greenhouse where he volunteered, Kakeru would tag along, smiling, dark hair plastered to his forehead in the humidity. They studied together in the education library, and when Kakeru knew Yuki was working too hard, he’d kick him under the table or slam his textbook closed with a satisfying thump when Yuki was nodding off. 

“He’s been...we’ve been spending a lot of time together. I mean, I know we always did, back in high school, but we still are,” Yuki said. 

“That’s good to hear, Yuki-kun,” Tohru said, brightly. He always felt slightly awkward filling her in on developments in his life. When they lived together, it seemed she was always one step ahead of him, like she knew more about what was going on with him than he did. Kakeru had once called her the _Sohma whisperer._ He didn’t often talk to her about Kakeru, since they’d had such an unpleasant past together, and he’d forgotten to tell her that he and Machi broke up until a few weeks after the fact. He mentioned it casually because he’d forgotten he hadn’t told her. 

“I cut up the onion,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Great! Now you can press the tofu,” Tohru said.

They carried on like that, Tohru giving him the next step and filling him in on things in her life in the time it took to sauté the vegetables or put together the sauce. 

She’d taken up crocheting and was making crocheted hair scrunchies for her co-workers. She said she hoped to get good enough to make Kyo a scarf for his birthday. 

“I’ll make something for you too, Yuki-kun,” she said, quickly, as if still trying to prove she wasn’t picking favorites. 

“I would love that,” he said. 

He didn’t burn the curry or overcook the rice. He sat at his tiny kitchen table, cluttered with books and mostly finished homework and ate. 

“This is delicious Tohru-kun, thank you.”

She laughed, and suddenly missing her made his chest ache. “Don’t thank me. You did all the work. I’m proud of you,” she said. 

He felt his face heating with the sort of childish embarrassment that still surprised him when it showed. Yuki sometimes felt he was living out the childhood he’d missed in these moments, when Tohru would say something a mother would and he’d react like he was 10 years old again, when Kakeru would tease him too much and he’d react with a petty childishness that felt like it came out of nowhere, when he and Machi bought popsicles in the summer time and she tried to knock his out of his hand when he pointed out that it had melted down her fingers and gotten in her hair. 

“Well thank you for calling, then,” he said, once he’d composed himself. 

The line was quiet. He ate his curry. He could hear the faint sounds of the news in the background where she was. They usually said goodbye at this point, but now they lingered. 

“Can I ask you something?” she said. 

“Of course.”

“If you were dating Manabe-san, would you tell me?”

“What?” Panic shot through him so quickly he almost hung up on her. “I’m not dating him. We’re friends. I don’t...he, uh and...I mean—“

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pry or put you on the spot or anything I was just worried that maybe you’d be nervous to say something if you were, and you talk about him a lot every time we call and I know he’s been a really important friend to you. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to hide anything from me. You used to hide everything; I just...sorry,” she breathed. 

“No, it’s...don’t be sorry,” he said. “I’m not dating Kakeru. I’m not dating anyone.”

“Okay,” she said. 

“When...if I am, I’ll tell you,” he said. 

“Okay,” she repeated. He imagined her flushed face, her embarrassment at his stupid reaction. Tohru always got down on herself when she thought she was overstepping. But she’d gotten so much better at asking for what she wanted, and from Yuki she always wanted the truth. 

“I can see how you’d think we might...” He trailed off. “I don’t know,” he said. 

Tohru sighed, and he thought, terrifyingly, that she was upset. 

“What is it?” he said. 

“You and Kyo-kun—I know you’re not going to want to hear this—but, well, you’re very alike sometimes.”

Yuki choked out a laugh. 

“It’s okay if it takes a long time for things to feel right,” she said. “I know that it can be hard to be honest with yourself, and easier to pretend that nothing’s changed.”

“Honda-san—“ He slipped back into formality. 

“Bad things didn’t happen to us because we were bad,” she said. Her voice shook. He imagined her saying the same thing to Kyo, Kyo who still didn’t like being stuck in one place, who didn’t like being bested in any contest even though the outcome didn’t matter anymore, Kyo who’d waited so long to tell her how he felt because he didn’t think he deserved to feel anything. “You know that?”

“I do,” he said, but he was surprised at how flimsy it sounded when he said it aloud. It was a simple thing to say that he wasn’t bad, that the curse wasn’t something he brought on himself, but it had been hard to get to that conclusion. It had taken years to say that and mean it. 

“And with Kakeru...well he says he likes me, and sometimes I’m not sure exactly how he means it. I’m not really sure myself,” he said. He felt like he was on the verge of telling her something he’d known always, and yet was only really discovering now. It all came back to what he deserved, and whether or not it was possible to be his own person, to stop hiding, after all this time. 

Tohru laughed, lightly and gently. “Well there’s no rush, is there?” she said. He thought again about what Kakeru said, about some straight path to a predetermined future. He thought about the curse, about being destined to be trapped in the main house, with the others, forever. He thought about how that reality seemed so immense and total that he could drown in it. And now it was gone. 

“I guess there isn’t,” he said. 

***

Kakeru lived in a house. He rented it, for the year, with friends from high school. He liked his roommates, but he also said they were hardly ever around. They all had class and part-time jobs and his roommates had girlfriends, so they were rarely home at the same time. When they were, for the weekend, they threw parties. 

“If you didn’t come to these things I wouldn’t bother,” Machi said. She had her arm hooked around his, pressed close to his side. Kakeru’s living room was already crowded with people Yuki had only met in passing. He’d dressed up—sort of—compared to usual. He was wearing clean pants, a turtleneck, and a cardigan that actually fit and didn’t just hang off of him. Machi was looking around for her brother. They’d arrived a little more than fashionably late. 

“Are you saying you’re glad I’m here or that we should leave?” Yuki said. 

She shrugged. 

“Yun Yun!” Kakeru appeared out of nowhere, holding a beer. His face was flushed and he was talking too loud. He put the hand that wasn’t holding his drink on Yuki’s cheek. “I missed your pretty face.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Machi said. Kakeru rolled his eyes, sweaty palm still pressed to Yuki’s cheek. 

“Kimi’s in the kitchen. Let her make you a drink,” Kakeru said, with a wild grin that made Yuki’s pulse start racing. 

“I don’t know any of these people,” Yuki said, surveying the crowd. Kakeru was playing his usual party mix of hits everyone (but Yuki) knew the words to and brash hyperpop tracks that make Yuki’s ears itch.

Kakeru hadn’t removed his hand from Yuki’s face, so Yuki shook him off. Kakeru looked mock offended for a second before throwing an arm around Yuki’s shoulders and waving his beer lazily to gesture to the party guests. 

“Ryu-kun and Yoshiro-kun’s friends,” he said, vaguely. “I just invited you guys, Kimi, and some guys from work and my stats class. But don’t worry. Everyone will love you. I’ve been talking you up, Princess.” 

Yuki hummed. No wonder Kakeru was already drunk. The longer Yuki had known him the more he realized that Kakeru got jumpy and needed some liquid courage in large groups of strangers. There was a reason he’d put his charisma and seemingly boundless energy into befriending the odd and the relatively friendless. Yuki imagined this anxiety was a relic of growing up trying to be the perfect child, in constant, dogged competition to prove himself worthy of the inheritance. If he could not be the most liked person in the room, it was better not to be in the room at all. Yuki had heard stories about this Kakeru, who was cold and focused and severe. It would be jarring to see this version of him, young and constricted by the feuding of his family. Yuki had been able to get many more details about this time from Machi than Kakeru. 

“I’m the host. I should go mingle,” Kakeru said, assertively. He tilted his head back and took a long sip of his beer. “Go to Kimi. Get drinks,” he repeated. He lifted his arm off of Yuki’s shoulder and winked exaggeratedly. “See you in a bit.”

Machi tugged his sleeve and they started toward the kitchen. “He’s been flirting with you even more than usual,” she said. 

“Who? Kakeru?” His voice jumped up an octave. 

He watched her study his expression. “Don’t say you haven’t noticed,” she said, flatly. 

He sucked in a breath, put on his best false smile, the kind he knew Machi hated but worked so well on everyone else that it was second nature to at least try, and said: “I hadn’t noticed.”

Kimi had her own corner of the kitchen. Her hair was curled and perfect and she had a counter full of liquor bottles and mixers at her command. 

There were a few people gathered around her, and Yuki watched her dump several shots of rum into a cup with some pineapple juice and a generous pour of grenadine.

“Machi-chan!” Kimi abandoned her station and threw her arms around Machi. “And you brought the president.” Kimi eyed him through thick lashes and he waved awkwardly. 

“I didn’t bring him, he’s just following me around,” Machi said, her voice muffled slightly in Kimi’s shoulder. 

“Hey! You just said you only came because I did,” he said. 

“Kakeru said you’d make us drinks,” Machi said. 

“Of course Kimi can make you drinks,” she said. “I’ve been asking everyone their blood type and astrological sign and how many siblings they have in between the real questions about what they want in their drink.”

“Why?” Yuki asked. 

She shrugged, tilting her head to one side. “I like to see how much people will put up with. And when they come back for more drinks and they’re already drunk I can be like hey how’s your sister or oh isn’t your birthday coming up and they’ll think they know me and forgot or that I’m psychic or something,” she said. 

“Has that happened?” Yuki asked. 

“The night is young, president,” Kimi said, seriously. Machi burst out laughing and Kimi looked entirely too self-satisfied. 

Kimi made Machi a drink with vodka and ginger ale. Machi passed it to Yuki and he sipped it. 

“Do you want yours like that or stronger?”

Kimi’s drinks were strong. He coughed. “Has Kakeru had one of these?” 

“He’s had three,” she said, grinning. “Keep an eye on him, won’t you?”

Machi elected to stay with Kimi, who was asking increasingly cryptic questions to people who now considered her the mixed drink savant. Machi hopped up and sat on the counter, sipping her drink and looking on in the detached, amused way that had seemed to replace her usual shyness. The girls told him to find Kakeru. It seemed almost like a dare. 

He found him in his room. He was sitting on the floor, alone, taking a hit from the bong Yuki had only seen him use at parties. 

Yuki had only been in Kakeru’s room here a handful of times. Kakeru preferred invading Yuki’s space. It was a blessing, really, because it gave Yuki incentive to clean. Kakeru’s room was drenched in warm lamplight. He had a bookshelf full of manga, a cluttered desk, and an open closet with dirty laundry heaped in a basket. The scarf he’d loaned Yuki was hanging on his desk chair. 

“I was instructed to come look for you,” Yuki said. 

Kakeru grinned when he saw him. “I was wondering when you’d find me. Has Kimi been poisoning your mind with lies?”

“She just told me you had three of her special drinks,” he said, holding up his own cup. “And you’ve had at least a beer since then.”

“Oh, so you’re my mom now? Remember that time we went out and you puked in the bushes outside of your building?” Kakeru said. He took another hit and coughed. His eyes were watering. 

“I remember,” Yuki said, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He’d overdone it that time because he thought he had something to prove. Kakeru had held his hair back. 

“Get back to me on that one when you learn how to iron your clothes,” he said. Yuki sat down beside him. 

“I wouldn’t know how to parent you if I tried,” Yuki said. 

Kakeru looked over at him. His pupils were blown and his face was flushed pink. Yuki tried not to stare. 

“Don’t worry, Prez, I’m hours from puking,” he said. 

“That’s good enough for me,” Yuki said. 

“I don’t know why I keep suggesting we have these parties,” he said. He was swaying slightly, as if in time to music Yuki couldn’t hear. 

“What do you mean?” he said. 

Kakeru leaned over, planting his palm in the carpet. “I think I want to have some big, crazy night with all these people and then I realize there are only a few people I actually want to be around. Only one, maybe.”

Yuki rolled his eyes. “Let me get you some water,” he said. He made to get up, but Kakeru caught him by the arm and pulled him back down. 

“I don’t need water,” he whined. “Stay.” The pad of his index finger was resting against a vein in Yuki’s wrist. They looked at each other. “Why’s your heart beating so fast?” Kakeru stumbled over his words, like his tongue was too big for his mouth. 

“It’s not,” Yuki said. It didn’t make sense to lie, but it still came as second nature sometimes, when he felt caught in a trap. 

Kakeru released his grip and leaned back so he was propped up against his bed. He crossed his arms over his chest. Yuki could hear the party downstairs, the music, the chatter, Kimi’s laugh. 

Yuki took the bong. “I want to get high,” he said. 

“Be my guest.”

They didn’t talk much until Yuki felt formless and pleasantly dizzy. He pulled his knees to his chest. “You know, these pants are too short on me,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve gotten any taller. I think I just bought the wrong pants. There was a wide sliver of ankle exposed between the end of his sock and his pant leg. 

“You haven’t gotten taller,” Kakeru said. He’d scooted over so their shoulders were touching. “I’ve still got a few centimeters on you.”

“I just feel like I’m always wrong about myself. Even that...even pants,” Yuki said. 

“I’m too high for this metaphor.”

“It’s not a—“ Yuki hesitated. “Do you ever look in the mirror and not recognize yourself?”

Kakeru gawked at him. 

“Not in a weird, melodramatic way...just, like it takes a second too long to remember that that’s what you look like. And when I was a kid I didn’t pick my own clothes so I would feel like I was in a costume, like for a play,” he said. 

“Sounds pretty weird and melodramatic to me,” Kakeru said, but his hand had moved on the carpet. It was poised beside Yuki’s, their pinkies almost touching. “Is this about the not talking thing?” he said, quietly. 

Yuki shook his head. He was high enough not to be embarrassed anymore. He envied Tohru for her ability to say daring, vulnerable things without chemical aid. She was stronger than him. 

“What are we?” he asked. “What am I to you?” 

Kakeru blinked. He looked surprised, eyebrows furrowed together, lazy expression transformed into a new one Yuki had never seen. Yuki was oddly satisfied that he’d managed to produce such surprise in someone like Kakeru, who seemed impossible to catch off guard. 

Kakeru reached up, slowly and cupped Yuki’s cheek. He waited a second, as if preparing for Yuki to shake him off, and then kissed him. Yuki felt lightheaded and exhilarated. He was kissing him back before he realized, like it was muscle memory. Kakeru was pulling him closer and closer. They were folding into each other. Kakeru’s hand was on his waist, grabbing at the fabric of his turtleneck. He was eager and earnest and tasted like rum. Yuki realized that this is what he’d imagined it would be like, kissing him, and that it felt like a logical extension of their arguments, of the insistent way Kakeru prodded at his fearful boundaries, goading him into opening up. 

Yuki moved with him. He wanted to see how close he could get, how long he could kiss him before his heart pounded out of his chest, which seemed a very real possibility. Kakeru pulled away. 

“Sorry,” he said, panting. “I forgot I had to breathe.”

“So did I,” Yuki said. Kakeru’s hand was still at his waist. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Kakeru laughed. Yuki wanted to kiss him again. “I thought it was pretty clear that I like you. I liked _that_.”

“So I’m some sort of rebound?” Yuki said. This seemed the sort of thing that was destined to blow up in his face and hurt him. 

Kakeru cocked his head to one side and smirked. His movements were slow again, not fevered and quick, as they had been. “You’re my best friend. Is it so bad if you’re also a rebound?” he said. 

Yuki rolled his eyes. “What, like it’s a promotion?”

“Like you’re important to me, in more ways than one. And kissing you might have been a stupid idea, but I have a lot of stupid ideas and I don’t intend on stopping anytime soon. Plus, how do I know I’m not _your_ rebound, Yun Yun, you big jerk? And it’s worse because you dated my sister. It’s like we’re genetically predisposed to being obsessed with you.”

“Machi’s not obsessed with me,” he said. “And it’s not the same. We were never—Machi and I weren’t really—I’m gay. That’s why it’s different. I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Kakeru said. He picked up the bong again and took another hit while color rushed to Yuki’s face. “Okay.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Yuki said. 

“Well, you just kissed me so I already thought you weren’t entirely straight. I just thought you were bi,” he said, voice hoarse from the smoke. 

“I never told you that,” he said. 

“Well, I never told you I was bi. I just assumed you could tell from...I don’t know, everything about me?” Kakeru said. 

“You’ve got to stop expecting me to read your mind,” Yuki said. 

Kakeru laughed again, and leaned over so their faces were close. “Then what was all that _what am I to you_ shit? It seems like you were reading my mind just fine.”

“What?”

“I was waiting for you to make a move. I’ve _been_ waiting,” Kakeru said. 

“I’m sorry my identity crisis has been so inconvenient for you,” Yuki deadpanned. 

Kakeru’s expression softened. “I guess eight months isn’t really that long in the grand scheme of things,” he said. 

“Eight months?” Yuki said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Machi broke up eight months ago,” Kakeru said, evenly. “ I assumed that was because you realized you were gay.”

“Oh,” Yuki said, voice wavering humiliatingly. “No, she uh...she said she thought we weren’t working as a couple and that we’d be better as friends. She was right, obviously, but I didn’t really realize that until she articulated it. Even then I didn’t know it was because I’m gay.” Saying it out loud made his throat feel dry and his palms sweat. He figured it would get easier, like how each time he returned to the main estate his step was a little stronger.

“So it was more recently, then?” Kakeru said. “When?”

Yuki squirmed. “I don’t know...maybe two days ago?”

Kakeru leapt up. Yuki stared at him; every motion made him dizzy.

“Two days! Holy shit, why’d you let me kiss you?”

“I like you,” he said. 

Kakeru grinned. “Did you just give me goosebumps? Who am I?”

Yuki got up. “Let me get you some water,” he said. He leaned over and kissed Kakeru again, like they’d been doing this for years. 

“Okay,” Kakeru said. “Anything for you.”

***

He found Machi easily. Kimi had pulled her outside, into their backyard where they were standing in the snow and smoking. Kimi had a crowd of boys around her, as usual and Machi was sipping another drink. 

“It was too hot inside,” Kimi announced, when Kakeru and Yuki broke through the swarm. She handed Kakeru her half-smoked cigarette. There was lipstick on the end but he took a drag anyway and handed it back. 

“Well, it’s damn cold out here,” he said. 

Machi laughed. When she got drunk, she laughed at everything. No one was wearing a coat and so the whole mass of them shivered and drew closer together. 

“Where’d you disappear to for so long?” Machi said. She looked at him like she knew already, and he couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s late,” she said. 

“Does that mean you’re ready to go?” he asked. She handed her drink to Kimi and nodded. 

“Machi-chan gets the royal escort,” Kimi said. “Not fair!”

They walked back together like always, steadying each other in the snow and laughing too loudly at everything they said. Her mouth was cherry red from Kimi’s drinks. Her puffy coat engulfed her, but fell to her mid-thigh, leaving her legs exposed. She was wearing tights, and when stopped every so often to look at the stars, her knees would shake. 

On nights like this, it didn’t seem so ridiculous that he’d convinced himself he’d had romantic feelings for her. She fell into step with him and muttered something about how he needed a hat. His ears were going red in the cold. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked. She threw her head back, bangs blowing away from her forehead, eyes on the sky. 

“I did. Did you?” she said. Her neck swiveled to look at him. “You can tell me, Yuki.”

He’d told Kakeru he’d tell her. He’d repeated it over and over, anxiety spiking until Kakeru had taken his hands and squeezed. 

“Take your time,” he’d said. Yuki thought he’d taken enough time already. 

He stuffed his hands deeper in his pockets. The weed and drinks were starting to wear off. He could feel the beginning of a headache. He looked at Machi’s shivering knees. “Kakeru and I kissed tonight. I have feelings for him,” he said. “And I’m gay. I...told him that. I thought I should tell you too.”

His hands were balled up into fists and his shoulders were tight. “Machi, I—“

Her arms were around him before he could finish, knocking the breath out of him. It was still strange to be comforted by a hug, instead of paralyzed by it. He didn’t realize he was crying until his face was wet, and then the tears were freezing on his face and Machi was petting his hair like he was a little kid. 

“Thanks for telling me,” she said. 

“I figured you already knew,” he choked. 

She drew back. “Don’t try diminish it. That must have been really hard to say.”

He sniffled. “Yeah,” he said. 

“You’re my best friend. Nothing’s going to change that,” she said. 

“I know,” he said. 

“Even if your taste in men is questionable,” she said. 

He grinned. “You’re rude.”

“I get it from my big brother,” Machi said. She reached up and wiped his face with her coat sleeve. “I’m freezing. Buy me a coffee.” 

He took his scarf off and wrapped it around her neck. “Okay,” he said. They walked, arm in arm, to the 7-11.

When he got home, Yuki laid on his back on the bed, shoes and coat still on. His phone buzzed:

Kakeru: lunchh tomrrow??

Yuki: We get lunch together almost every day. 

Kakeru: but it’ll beee a date ;)

Yuki: You’re going to be too hungover for lunch. 

Kakeru: ooooo dinner????

Yuki: Fine, dinner. 

Yuki set his phone down and stared at the ceiling. It was spinning, slightly. Tomorrow he’d make coffee and water his plants and walk around in his robe and pajamas for half the day. 

And then, like he promised, he’d call Tohru. 


End file.
